We Are Not Alone
by weapon13WhiteFang
Summary: That moment when I do what every fandom likes to do to their show and characters... I put them as teenagers in High School! Oooh yes! I'm going there! Bwahaha!... Oh dont look at me like that and just give it a try. If it's that horrible I will take it down. Promise lol (Cookie to whoever can tell me how I came up with the title ;] ) CHAPTER 2 IS UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Human Target or their characters. That's Fox and DC's area. I do however own any added character or fictional places that appear. And unless I give consent they are not open to anyone. Please be respectful of that.

**Note: **Before I begin let me explain that YES I am very very aware how cheesy it is to do one of these and how obnoxious it is. And you should all know that when people do these, it's all about how they observe the character and what setting THEY see them fitting in with. I will be doing the same thing. What clique and how the work in the school system is how I will be writing this. Will it be cheesy? Probably. Do I care? No. Why am I doing this? Because it looked like fun and I'm bored lol.

.

.

.

**We Are Not Alone**

_Chapter 1: Wake Up_

.

"If you don't get your lazy ass out of bed right now I will throw you out of your damn bed into the yard and send you to school in your damn pajamas! Get. Up!" A head of wild – long – mousy brown hair poked out from under a pile of clothes hazardously piled on top of an unkempt bed in an unkempt room could be seen as a body slowly – sluggishly – pulled itself out from under the covers and pushed the covers and dirty clothes aside.

Brushing long bangs out of sight, very blue eyes glared at the bedroom door before reaching to grab a pair of glasses off the bed stand and rising to their feet, drabbed only in flannel jeans and making their way to the bathroom to – sort of – spiffy themselves up. Washing their face, running a comb through their hair once before saying fuck it and putting on a snow cap, brushing their teeth, and flossing before stomping out their room and picking up clothes, sniffing them until a clean shirt and jeans are found. Sliding on sneakers and their leather jacket as cigarettes were pocketed, a head tilted up to look at the door as a timid knock was heard.

"We're gonna be late!" a voice called from the other side. He grunted and grabbed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before grabbing his zippo and stomping out his door. He was not a morning person and right now all he wanted to do was get the day over with so the weekend could begin. He fuckin hated the first week of school.

He ignored the squeak of surprise at his rough exit of his room, slamming the door because he wasn't suppose to, and making his way down the stairs. He could hear small feet stumbling to keep up after him as he grabbed a poptart and muffin, patting his passed out mother on the back and ignoring the stink eye his father was giving him as he bit into an apple and grabbed a soda out of the fridge to drink on the way to school and to wake him up. As he made out the door, his father yelled something or other to him, which he ignored, as a timid voice said goodbye before running out the door and catching up to him. He glanced out the corner of his eyes at her. "Didn't need you to walk me to school, dude," he grumbled, chewing on his apple as he gave her a piece of his muffin. She took it with a thankful smile before quietly eating. As soon as she swallowed, she smiled. "Of course I did. You'd still be in bed if I didn't come get you every day, right?"

He scoffed but didn't agree or disagree. He wasn't one for overly sentimental moments. He finished his apple and tossed it into someone's yard, ignoring the man as he yelled and called him names. He was focused on the way she was walking. She had a limp and was wearing a black sweater, her hair in her face. His jaw squared and he looked ahead.

He felt her glance at him and she sighed. "It doesn't hurt," she whispered and he grit his teeth. "Whatever you say, dude," he growled. He wasn't in the mood to have this discussion with her and looking at his cellphone – whi9ch he found in the pocket of his jacket – he realized they weren't as late as he thought. They had a few minutes to spare and he could see Wein High School – home of the Assassins – just around the next turn across the street.

As they crossed the street and made their way across the football field, some people stopped and waved. "Layla!" someone called. She – Layla – waved back and gave a shy smile before looking back at him as she was motioned over. He kept walking, shrugging her off. She took that as an okay to go and ran – more like hobbled – over to her friends while he climbed up the bleachers and sat. He had time to puff half a cigarette.

Pulling out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips and grabbed for his lighter and flicked the flames to life, burning the tip and letting the sweet – if not bitter – nicotine wash into his taste-buds. He took a long drag before spewing out a stream of smoke, the wind blowing it this way and that as he let the cigarette hang between his lips.

"Those thing'll kill you, man. I keep telling you that," mid puff and grunt, a glance to his left revealed a handsome youth with a large smile in a letterman's jacket of black and red and the number 13 in white on the chest. His blonde hair and blue eyes made him a heartthrob to girls and the picture perfect poster boy for the school and the papers. "Shouldn't you be practicing, Junior. Gonna get out of shape," he grumbled as he flicked ashes off his cigarette while blondie – Junior – came to sit by him.

A few people stared as they walked by at the odd duo but no one – wisely – said a thing. Least not to their faces. Everyone was well aware that Junior was known for making friends with anyone no matter where they fell on the school's social ladder. And everyone knew _he _went wherever he pleased and could fit in just fine because no one was willing to say otherwise against him being there.

Junior gave a boyish smile and shrug. "Just one day won't throw me off too bad, man," he stated simply earning a grunt and "hurmph" of sorts. The two sat quietly as Junior waved and nodded to a few people while he finished his cigarette and the school bell rang. Jumping to his feet, Junior helped him up and the two made down the stairs and up the hill to school.

**R & R Plz**

**Weeeellll? Horrible, right? Yep. It's gonna get worssee! LOL!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Human Target or their characters. That's Fox and DC's area. I do however own any added character or fictional places that appear. And unless I give consent they are not open to anyone. Please be respectful of that.

**Note: **Before I begin let me explain that YES I am very very aware how cheesy it is to do one of these and how obnoxious it is. And you should all know that when people do these, it's all about how they observe the character and what setting THEY see them fitting in with. I will be doing the same thing. What clique and how the work in the school system is how I will be writing this. Will it be cheesy? Probably. Do I care? No. Why am I doing this? Because it looked like fun and I'm bored lol.

.

.

.

**We Are Not Alone**

_Chapter 2: Smokin' In The Girls Room_

.

He glared at the teacher as the door was opened. He was late to class. Just like he always was. He'd had to piss so he'd stopped at the john and was taking a leak before one of his clients came in asking for what they knew he could get them; anything. After sealing a deal and an early pay for cheats to a math test, he'd be visiting his client after school.

The teacher – Victoria Whales, or Mrs. Whales – wasn't bad looking for a teacher but she was so damn strict that it was like she always had a stick up her ass. Her husband was one patient dude. "Guerrero Harrison… Late as usual," she sighed as she shut the door. A few of his classmates snickered, only to silence at the death glare sent their way. Finding his seat in the back, Guerrero dropped his backpack on the floor and plopped down, pulling his snowcap down and crossing his arms on the table, using them as makeshift pillows as he pushed his headphones in before laying his head down, ready to sleep.

"_They cry in the dark, so you can't see their tears. They hide in the light, so you can't see their fears. Forgive and forget, all the while-!"_ The song was cut short as an ear-bud was ripped from his ear and a book dropped in-front of him, sending a loud bang throughout the room that caused even those awake to jump. Slowly raising his head, Guerrero looked up at the face of a very annoyed Mrs. Whales. "Thank-you for rejoining us Mr. Harrison," she sighed, picking the book up and heading back to the front with his iPod, "you can get this back from me after class."

Guerrero glared at her back but sat up none the less and slouched back in her seat, glaring at the front and letting himself drown out all that was said. English was an easy class that everyone panicked over. All you had to do was write a damn paper and turn it in. The teacher would grade it, hand it back and give you a chance to fix it for extra points. Easy. School was easy. It was pointless too. But… He stayed. He stayed for his mom, to prove his worthless old man wrong, and for his closes family member.

.

.

.

"Layla Harrison!" A voice boomed through the hallways during passing hours and Layla nearly dropped her Math and History book in surprise. Poking her head around her locker she squeaked as she found Mr. Joubert, the principle, standing before her. His arms were crossed and he had a scowl in place. As he always did. He always looked so intimidating and mean. All business… Layla wondered how Junior Joubert could be so unlike his adoptive father…

Shutting her door – having grabbed all her belongings – Layla ducked her head and made her way to the Principle. "Yes, sir," she asked softly. Layla wasn't always so timid. She had her moments of bravery and forwardness… But she knew she let herself be pushed around and walked over a lot. It wasn't that she meant to. It was just sometimes easier to take it instead of pushing back… Sometimes.

Mr. Joubert glared down at her and seemed to growl. Or maybe that was just her imagination and fear. She never got in trouble, so situations that put her infront of authoritive figures usually made her tense and jumpy. And usually she was in this situations because of her cousin… "Harrison. I need you to escort the new student to their classes" he grufly stated, reaching in his front pocket of his suit to hand her a scribbled on piece of paper with his signature and a message stating she was allowed to be a little late to her classes.

Looking at the note, Layla furrowed her brow and pushed her specks up on her face. Tilting slightly on her feet she peered around Mr. Joubert and was just now able to see that there was indeed someone behind him. "Julian Baptiste. He's an exchange student. Show him around for today. I'm pretty damn sure he can find his way around after that," Mr. Joubert explained and Layla had to try not to gap at him for cussing around students.

"Yes, sir," she replied simply as she tucked the note in her pocket and walked past the looming principle to Julian. Closer up she could see he was dressed rather nice with an even nicer watch that glinted under the sleeves of his clean suit jacket. Layla heald out her hand to shake his – as she found that was all she could think to do for a proper greeting – as Mr. Joubert left them. When Julian did not shake her hand, she shrank it back and looked sheepish. "Um… Do you know what your second class is?" she asked, not liking how he was just staring at her. "It's second period so you missed first… " she trailed off lamely, clutching her books.

He smiled a smile that didn't really reach his eyes. "Course I do, lass," he stated in an accent that surprised her. Was that British... Australian…? She couldn't put her finger on it but it certainly wasn;t what she was expecting. "It's Biology with some bloke named Whales," he finished. Mr. Whales… Oh! She knew where he was. Layla had never had him, but she was aware he was a nice man. Loved his job and was said to be pretty easy.

"Um… Just follow me then" she said, softly ushering him to follow her as they mad their way down the hallway to the staircase. Layla bit her lip as she made her way up the stairs. She could feel Julian's eyes on her and it made her feel like a deer being watched by a panther. "What happened to yer leg, lass?" he asked calmly, conversation like as they passed the second floor.

As they made to the third, Layla gave a dry laugh. "Oh I'm kinda clumsy and I feel down the stairs. Bruised my foot and knee up," she said, looking back and hoping she was giving a casual smile. The look he gave her told her otherwise but he stepped past her as they hit the third floor. "If you say so," he said as he walked ahead of her, stopping at the right door… Wait? How had he known that?

Catching up to him, Layla tapped lightly on the door. Shuffling was heard on the other side and she could make out a male form walking to the door before it opened. Mr. Whales smiled at them both as Layla handed him the note from Mr. Joubert. With a nod, he handed it back to Layla before welcoming Julian in. Layla and Julian shared one last look before she muttered she'd see him after class to show him to the lunchroom before walking on as the door closed and she headed to her Computer Science class.

.

.

.

You know how in almost every high school there's that one bathroom for each sex that everyone likes to hang out in? At Wein High School – for the girls – that was second floors bathroom. Second floor bathroom was where all the girls hung out, had their fights, and where all gossip and rumors started. It was also where you could grab a chance to smoke a much needed cigarette between classes, telling the teachers you had "female problems" that made you take longer to get back.

And that is exactly what Ames Herrera would tell her teachers when she got back from her own cigarette. She'd been dying for once since this morning, but had been dealing with a nasty breakup and had been on her phone yelling and emphasizing in Spanish and English to get her point through. That was the only way to get her ex-boyfriend to really listen and even now he wasn't.

She felt kind of annoyed. She'd been doing well at keeping up on quitting smoking for a month now. Leave it to a nasty breakup to lead to her stealing some of her foster moms. Letting the cigarette hang from her mouth as she sat on a toilet stool and leaned against the wall, Ames blankly answered text messages from her friends – well people she called friends but weren't really – who had all instantly heard about the breakup and were now wanting confirmation.

"Did you really break up with Alejandro?"

"OMG I can't believe you broke up with Santiago!"

"Heard about the breakup! That blows!"

"Hey can I date Santiago now that you to are unofficial on FB?"

Message after message was blowing up her phone and she was answering each one, not really caring. Her relationship with Alejandro Santiago had been going downhill since last year and it shouldn't surprise people that they were breaking up. Her best friend – her one true friend since pre-K – Brody Rivera had offered to beat him up if it helped with the breakup. She'd told him no only because she didn't want Brody in trouble when he was already facing enough juvie time like herself. They needed to lay low after last year's BnE at the Mall. Hey she'd scored some pretty hot boots out of that. Boots she'd been able to hide from the cops and was now wearing.

Stuffing her phone in her pocket, Ames flicked the ashes into the toilet bowl and pressed the burning tip into the side of the building – luckily it was concrete – before tucking the half smoked cig into her purse for later. Flushing the toilet, Ames listened to see if she could hear anything happening on the boys side. There was a vent that connected to the two bathrooms and sometimes activity and gossip could be heard. She wasn't up for class yet and wanted to see if any rumors had started yet.

When she heard nothing, she huffed and made to get down. "Herrera!" Ames gasped and almost slid off the toilet; catching herself as the bathroom door opened and she found herself staring at Mrs. Roberts – the oldest teacher at school – who was glaring at her. "Young lady you have missed almost my whole class! What are you doing standing on the toilet?!" she exclaimed in disbelief, her French accent thickening.

Ames gave a sheepish – condescended – smile as she jumped off and tried to think of an explanation, rambling slightly, only to groan as Mrs. Robert grabbed her hand and dragged her out the bathroom. "You will go straight to Mr. Joubert! Always skipping my class! Detention is what you need!" she exclaimed. Mrs. Robert had a bad habit of talking loud and looking like a puffer fish when she was mad. She just puffed up.

Ames was made to wait outside the classroom as Mrs. Robert wrote her a pink slip to the principals office. Handing it to her – after paging the secretary to let her know Ames was coming – Mrs. Robert shoo'd her off, letting her grab her bags. She ignored the looks her classmates gave her and lazily made her way to the office, sighing in annoyance.

Fucking. Great.

**R & R Plz**

**I'm almost having fun with this. I mean I think I actually have an idea of where this piece is going... Huh. Neat lol  
**


End file.
